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rejectomorphLately I've been skipping dinner a lot. Partly its been the heat, and partly the odd sleep patterns (or lack of patterns) and partly I've just not been hungry, or haven't been hungry for whatever I've had on hand. Thursday it was mostly because I'd impulsively made a late lunch of angel hair pasta in marinara with a bit of cream cheese, and then went to sleep fairly early in the evening, and didn't feel like cooking again when I woke up. I think I did eat something after I woke up, but it wasn't cooked and I don't remember just what it was. Oh, cinnamon toast and some chocolate milk? Maybe.
Anyway, sleeping a lot, being unfocused, and gathering enough wool to knit a whole house cozy, if I could knit, and if I had a house, keeps me sufficiently detached from reality that I'm probably in no danger of doing anything practical or sensible anytime soon, and that also makes it unlikely I'll do anything crazy (although not doing anything practical or sensible can have consequences that are the equivalent of crazy.) But for a couple of days I've had the feeling that I'm about to do something. Whether it is something practical and sensible, or crazy, or just pointless, I don't know. If I do do something, whatever it is will be a surprise, though doing it won't be.
Friday. Those used to be significant days for me. Now they are days. It's as though I've slipped outside the cycles of the world. It's as though outside were becoming the only place there is.
Anyway, sleeping a lot, being unfocused, and gathering enough wool to knit a whole house cozy, if I could knit, and if I had a house, keeps me sufficiently detached from reality that I'm probably in no danger of doing anything practical or sensible anytime soon, and that also makes it unlikely I'll do anything crazy (although not doing anything practical or sensible can have consequences that are the equivalent of crazy.) But for a couple of days I've had the feeling that I'm about to do something. Whether it is something practical and sensible, or crazy, or just pointless, I don't know. If I do do something, whatever it is will be a surprise, though doing it won't be.
Friday. Those used to be significant days for me. Now they are days. It's as though I've slipped outside the cycles of the world. It's as though outside were becoming the only place there is.
